


The Floof of July

by woodelf



Series: The Floofy!verse [8]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fourth of July, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25806856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodelf/pseuds/woodelf
Summary: Gold and Belle host a family picnic for the Fourth of July.
Relationships: Baelfire | Neal Cassidy & Emma Swan, Baelfire | Neal Cassidy & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle & Emma Swan, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Henry Mills & Emma Swan, Henry Mills & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: The Floofy!verse [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836043
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	The Floof of July

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before Henry was given a canon middle name. Instead, since Neal is still alive in this 'verse, I had Snow and David name their baby Daniel. The names Ciorstag and Kentlegrit were shamelessly borrowed from the fandom classic “Brave” by PhoenixTalon.

Belle Gold, formerly known as Belle French, had embraced the celebrations of this new world she lived in. After the success of her Christmas program at the library, not a holiday had passed unmarked without decorations, related book displays, and themed events. The minor holidays passed without much fanfare at the Gold home itself (although Rumpelstiltskin had no complaints at _all_ about the private Valentine’s Day celebration that his wife had arranged), but the Fourth of July was another matter entirely. 

A picnic table had made an appearance in the backyard, although Rumpelstiltskin had put his foot down when Belle had wanted to buy a cheerful red and white checked vinyl tablecloth to cover it, providing instead a cloth one from the shop. A sand-filled pail served as a centerpiece in the middle of the table, in which were stuck a decorative assortment of pinwheels, American flags, and sparklers for Henry’s later amusement once it grew dark enough to show them off. The rest of the table was covered in food, everything from a platter of lobster rolls to a heaping mound of hot dogs, potato salad, fruit salad, and a tiered cake stand laden with white-frosted cupcakes decorated with red and blue sprinkles. Besides the pitcher of iced tea on the table, a galvanised iron washtub borrowed from the shop had been filled with ice and sat on the grass nearby, serving as a cooler for bottles of beer and a variety of soda pop in flavours that matched the red, white and blue theme.

It looked like a picture from _Martha Stewart Living_ , a magazine that Rumpelstiltskin had become familiar with since Belle had become an avid reader of it. A very small bit of magic had ensured that no bugs would bother them. And around the table, talking and laughing and eating, were Rumpelstiltskin’s family. Belle sat beside him on the bench seat, her shoulder brushing his, and Neal, Emma and Henry sat across from them. Snow and Charming had declined Belle’s invitation – baby Daniel was teething and not in a socialising mood, they had explained. The name had been chosen in memory of Regina’s first lover, Snow hoping the gesture would do something to help mend her relationship with her stepmother. Rumpelstiltskin remembered the look on Regina’s face when the name had been announced – a mix of pain and wistfulness, and the barest nod of acknowledgement. Maybe it had helped; there had been no trouble between the two of them lately at least. At any rate, Rumpelstiltskin had been secretly happy not to have two extra – well, three – guests.

It was hardly the sort of scene most of the town would have pictured the dour landlord and pawnbroker Mr Gold in, let alone Rumpelstiltskin the Dark One. It wasn’t a scene that _he_ had ever pictured himself in, but he sat there, in his casual button-down shirt with open neck and rolled-up sleeves (Neal’s Father’s Day gift to him, informing him that he needed to “loosen up”) and eating off of paper plates, drinking it all in and committing every detail to memory because he still couldn’t believe that such happiness could last. The way Belle looked in her light denim blue skirt and matching flower-embroidered vest, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. The grins on Henry’s and Neal’s faces as they apparently engaged in a “who can build the messiest hot dog” competition, piling on the condiments and attempting to fit the resulting creations into their mouths. Emma, devouring her second lobster roll – she’d demanded the recipe after finding out that Belle had made them herself – and chatting to her about life in the Enchanted Forest, more interested now that she’d actually been there and seen it for herself. Neal nearly choking on his food when Emma asked about feminine hygiene.

I don’t think Henry needs to hear this,“ Neal interjected.

"Why not?” Emma demanded. “Girls his age are dealing with it every month; he’s old enough to know what they’re going through.”

“But maybe not when we’re eating?” Neal asked hopefully.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Fine. Male wusses at the table, Belle. We’ll talk later.”

Rumpelstiltskin snorted as he glanced at Henry. The boy looked torn between wanting to hear about everything and not sure he wanted to hear about _this_ thing, choosing wisely to remain silent. He studied his son and the mother of his grandchild thoughtfully. Their relationship seemed much easier than it had been, more relaxed, and he wondered if he dared hope that they might get back together. Emma had come to feel like part of his family anyway; he would have no objection to welcoming her as a daughter-in-law.

“Hey, Grandpa,” Henry kicked his shin lightly under the table, and Rumpelstiltskin’s eyebrows rose at this method of getting his attention, but Henry was nonchalant. “Wanna be on my team in our next game of Jarts after supper?”

“I would love to, but maybe we should give Belle a chance to play this time and I’ll be scorekeeper?”

While he’d been away, Belle had done some rearranging in the shop, bringing some formerly buried items up front and center, and Emma had spotted the vintage lawn game on her last visit and snapped it up like a shot. They were the good ones, she had gloated, the oversized darts being tipped with heavy metal points. Apparently they had switched over to plastic in the name of safety in this modern lawsuit-happy world. It seemed that she had been rather good at the game growing up in the foster home and looked forward to playing it with Henry. Surprisingly, Rumpelstiltskin had discovered that he too had a knack for throwing the plastic-finned missiles, and their first game had been a narrowly won battle between himself and Bae on one team and her and Henry on the other. 

“Oh, okay,” Henry agreed amiably.

Belle laughed. “You know I have terrible hand-eye coordination.”

“You can be on my team,” Emma said firmly. “Girls against boys.”

When everyone had eaten as much as they could and the remains of the food cleared away, Rumpelstiltskin took up a spot on the sidelines, while everyone else grabbed their two Jarts and took up their positions by one of the hoops staked out on the formerly pristine lawn. As she’d predicted,Belle’s first throw fell far short of the goal.

“More power next time,” Emma encouraged. When her turn came round again, Belle’s next throw sailed far past the hoop. 

“Told you,” Belle laughed. “I’m no good at athletic things.” But she was obviously having fun and enjoying herself, and Rumpelstiltskin slipped his camera out of his pocket and took a picture of her, cheerful and smiling.

“Too _much_ power that time,” Emma agreed. “Try for something right in the middle. It takes practice to learn just how much force to use.”

“C'mon, Grandma, you can do it," encouraged Henry a few minutes later as Belle carefully took aim for her third try.

"Hey, they’re the opposing team, you’re not supposed to root for them.” Neal admonished.

“Dad, it’s a _game_.”

“I was just kidding, buddy.”

Emma cheered as Belle’s Jart landed only a couple of inches outside the hoop. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.”

Bae had always been a good aim with a slingshot as a boy, and he’d learned how to wield a spear in Neverland. He had quickly developed a feel for throwing the Jart in a straight arc that landed in or just outside the goal every time. Rumpelstiltskin snapped another quick picture, of Neal standing by Henry’s side, coaching him, the look of determination on the boy’s face suggesting he might be stopping by during the week to practice until he’d mastered the game. The “boys” ended up winning, Henry whooping with excitement and then showing his character by promptly saying “Good game, Mom, You too, Belle. You got a lot better by the end.”

“Thank you, Henry.” She beamed fondly at him.

Rumpelstiltskin climbed down from his perch atop the picnic table, which had given him the best view of both goals. Dusk was beginning to fall, and Neal was gathering up the game and stowing the pieces away in their box. 

“Hey, Gold,” Emma began, “Since you’re the only one with a big enough yard to play this –”

“You may keep it here, yes.” His mouth quirked up in a small smile, having already expected it. Henry had become such a regular visitor that he’d brought down a trunk from the attic for the boy to keep some things in – everything from spare gloves and a sweater to board games and a soccer ball. Not his dad’s old one – that had treasured pride of place in Henry’s bedroom, Rumpelstiltskin had learned. 

“Are we going down to the harbour?” Henry asked. “Leroy’s going to set off some fireworks.”

“We’ll be able to see them from here,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “Unless you’d rather go?”

Henry glanced at the sky in the direction of the harbour. He felt pleasantly lazy and full of good food. His other grandparents wouldn’t be there, because of the baby, and he doubted Regina would want to mix with a crowd, either. There was no reason to go, and there was still one flavour of soda in the cooler that he hadn’t tried. “No, I guess not. Here is fine.”

“Well, then, while we wait, are you too old for sparklers?” Belle asked, plucking one out of the bucket.

Henry considered for about one second. “Nah.” He grinned and grabbed two.

Rumpelstiltskin produced a small fireball hovering above the palm of his hand and held it out to Henry. “Here you go.”

“Cool.” Henry lit his sparklers.

“Rumpel!” Belle held out the glass jar with the citronella candle they hadn’t needed to use, and raised one eyebrow meaningfully. 

“Yes, dear,” he said meekly, and dutifully transferred the flame to the wick, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. 

“Thank you.” She placed the flickering candle on the table, and they watched as Henry moved out into the center of the lawn and began swirling the sparklers through the air in random looping patterns. 

“C'mon, Emma.” Neal seized a sparkler and passed one to her, a big boyish grin on his face.

“You’re still a ten-year old, aren’t you?” Emma shook her head but took it with an indulgent smile, holding it to the candle flame until it fizzed to life, shooting sparks into the growing darkness. Rumpelstiltskin watched as they joined their son, Henry grinning in delight as his parents approached, all three faces alight with the joy of being together at long last, of being a family, and Rumpelstiltskin picked the camera up again, knowing well that these were the moments that mattered, that needed to be preserved and treasured, to look back upon when things weren’t going so well. 

“You’re going to need a new photo album by Christmas,” Belle remarked, climbing up to sit on top of the picnic table.

“Do you blame me?” Rumpelstiltskin sat back down on the bench. 

“Not at all.” She spread her legs so he could lean back between them, her sandalled feet planted on the seat on either side of his body. “I think photographs are one of my favourite things about this world. Besides electricity and indoor plumbing and being able to kiss my husband as much as I want, of course.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sliding her hands into the open neck of his shirt, and bent down to kiss his upturned nose as he tilted his head back to look at her.

"You can join them if you want, love,“ he told her.

"Nope, I’m fine right where I am,” she assured him, resting her chin atop his head as he smiled and turned back to watch the others, curling his hands around her ankles and feeling enclosed by her love. He saw his son trace his name in the air, the letters of fire fading slowly enough to be read. Not Neal, Rumpelstiltskin saw with a stab of pleasure. _Baelfire._ His bright, shining child, warming the lives of everyone he came in contact with.

Henry had seen what his father had written as well. “I wish I had a cool name like Baelfire. Henry is so boring.”

“Lots of kings have been named 'Henry’,” Neal pointed out. 

“Still. What would you guys have named me if you’d had the choice?”

“Gosh, I don’t know. Most parents have several months to think about it.”

“Mom? You knew I was out there. Did you ever think about it?”

Emma shook her head. “I couldn’t. It hurt too much.” She snuffed out her sparkler as it burned down too close to her hand. 

“I don’t have a middle name, you know,” Henry remarked. “If you wanted to pick one out.”

“Really?” Neal looked delighted with the idea. 

“I can say no if I don’t like it,” Henry warned. “But – could we do it? Make it legal and everything?”

Emma glanced at Rumpelstiltskin, who nodded. “That could be arranged." 

"All right,” she agreed. “We’ll start thinking about it." 

"Make it cool,” Henry urged. 

“I kinda like 'Aloysius’,” observed Neal innocently.

“No you don’t,” Henry said firmly.

“Maybe Hubert,” Emma suggested, joining in the game.

“Mom!”

Suddenly the sky lit up with a deafening BOOM! as the first firework went off, exploding in a shower of white light.

Sparklers were doused in the pail of sand, and Henry scrambled up onto the picnic table to sit besides Belle, snagging the bottle of Moxie Blue Cream Soda on the way. Neal plopped down next to his father and Emma perched on the end of the table as a whistling noise signaled the next one going up, a red starburst appearing in the sky. 

It was a good display, Rumpelstiltskin admitted, Leroy having a way with blowing things up. For the next half hour everyone oohed and aahed and pointed. But he was still also Rumpelstiltskin, the consummate showman, and he couldn’t resist showing off a little. 

“I think this little show is missing something,” he remarked presently.

“Yeah, what?” Henry took a swig of his soda. 

“Oh, a little razzle-dazzle. Something like –” He gestured, and suddenly a dragon made of white light was swooping across the sky, breathing red flames. “That?”

“Awesome,” Henry breathed. They could actually _hear_ the cries of astonishment coming from the harbour.

Belle tugged lightly on Rumpelstiltskin’s hair as she bent down close to his ear. “You’re going for the 'coolest grandfather’ points, aren’t you?”

“Maybe just a little,” he admitted. “Do you mind?”

Belle shook her head “No. Just don’t overdo the magic. The price, remember?”

“Negligible, really. Fire magic is the easiest to master. First thing an apprentice learns.” He raised his hand, then brought it down. and the dragon swooped down to fly low over the heads of those watching from the harbour, then turned, rose again, and dived dramatically out of sight, although they heard someone scream and the sound of something hot being quenched by water as the dragon no doubt disappeared beneath the waters of the bay.

“Gotta admit, that was a nice one, Papa.”

“Thank you, son,” Rumpelstiltskin replied smugly. Obviously Leroy knew nothing could beat what everyone had just seen, and wrapped up the show with a series of fireworks going rapidly up one after another, the noise almost deafening until finally the last one fizzled out, leaving multi-coloured imprints of light behind their eyelids.

“Best Fourth ever,” Henry pronounced with satisfaction, and then yawned hugely.

“Uh-oh, sounds like it’s time to wrap things up and head home,” said Emma. “Tired, kiddo?”

“Mom, I just _yawned_ , I’m not –” He yawned again. “Okay, maybe a little,” he admitted.

“We’ll go pack up some leftovers for you to take home,” Belle said, pushing Rumpelstiltskin to his feet so she could slide off the table in his wake. 

“I like Michael,” Emma said abruptly as they headed into the house.

“Who? Tillman?” Neal looked startled. 

“No! I mean as a middle name! I was thinking during the fireworks,” Emma explained. 

“So was I,” Neal admitted. “I thought of Alexander.”

Henry cocked his head. “Both are okay, but kind of ordinary. What were the names of some people in the village where you grew up, Dad?”

“Morraine. She was my best friend. And her mother was Ciorstag,” Neal reminisced. “Um, Alaric. And Robin the blacksmith.” His brow furrowed. “Moss? I remember a little boy called Moss, who used to tag along after us older kids.”

“I think I’ll pass on that one,” Henry said drily. 

“Tam,” supplied Rumpelstiltskin. “And Ranald the cooper. And if you want unusual, Kentlegrit.” He divided the leftovers that Belle was packaging up into two bags, one for Neal and one for Henry and Emma.

“I said "cool”, not “unusual,” Henry grimaced. 

“What we should do,” suggested Neal, “is look up meanings. "Pick something that means "the believer” or “brave one” or something. That’s partly why I liked Alexander. Because of Alexander the Great. Also it sounds good paired with 'Henry’.“

The tips of Henry’s ears flushed pink. "Well, maybe. But i don’t want to decide on the first things you think of. Maybe make a list?”

“You can pick up a baby names book at the library,” suggested Belle. “Henry’s right; this is important; you want to take your time and consider all the possibilities. All right, here are your leftovers.” She pushed the bags over. “It was lovely having you over; do I get a hug from my favourite grandson before you go?”

“I’m you’re only grandson,” Henry retorted, giving her a hug then turning to his grandfather. 

“You would be my favourite grandson even if I _had_ more," Rumpelstiltskin declared, pulling him in for a quick hug. Over Henry’s shoulder he saw Neal’s eyes dart to Emma. _So. There’s definitely still something there for him if that’s where his thoughts went right away,_ Rumpelstiltskin thought. 

"Nice to know.” Henry stepped back and glanced at his mom. “Just putting it out there that I’d be perfectly fine with a sibling.”

“Hey, why is everyone looking at me?” Emma protested, beginning to look hunted. “I’ve been there, done that, wasn’t fun.” She grabbed their bag of leftovers. “Thanks for having us over. This might be an…unconventional family, but I guess it’s not a bad one.”

“This is my family,” quoted Henry, smiling. “I found it, all on my own. Is little, and broken, but still good.”

“'Lilo and Stitch’.” Emma laid a proud hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Yeah, but maybe not so broken anymore? But you did. You found me, all on your own. And I am so very grateful that you did.” She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. 

“Me, too,” said Neal seriously, looking from Henry to his father. “Thank you for finding me. Thank you for never giving up looking.”

“Never.” The corner of his lips twitched. “I will always find you.”

“Oh please, don’t start quoting my parents,” Emma groaned, and the moment of seriousness dissolved into laughter all around. 

“What’s 'Lilo and Stitch’?” asked Belle curiously.

“Oh, it’s a movie, you’ll like it, we’ll watch it next time I come over,” enthused Henry.

“It’s a date,” she promised. Neal demanded copies of the pictures he’d seen his father taking, and they gathered up their things and trooped to the door.

They had all been broken, Rumpelstiltskin thought as they stood in the kitchen doorway, waving their goodbyes. Broken and lost and alone, and now they weren’t. He slipped an arm around Belle’s waist, holding her close. “No, not broken anymore,” he agreed softly, feeling her lean into him.

“But maybe, just a little…chipped?”

Her laughter was the perfect end to a perfect day.


End file.
